Off To See The Wild West Show Part 1, Chapter 20 (3/4) By Frank Beill 1886: Hull, Yorkshire

(1/4), (2/4), (3/4). (4/4). Part 1 Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. Part 2 Prologue, Chapter 1, 2, 3.

Luckily no one was lost in the storm, but one of the ponies had broken a leg and needed to be put down. The only other casualty was the Deadwood Stage, which had taken quite a battering standing unprotected on the open deck. It was a hive of activity with the ship's carpenter and members of the backstage staff administering first aid to this integral part of the show. 'We'll need to have the Stage ready for when we get to New York,' Miss Arta said. We were watching the repair work from the safety of the ponies.

With Laughing Waters' sprained wrist and my aching side we were only able to make a token effort in grooming the colts. I threw my guardian an inquisitive look. 'We've got a season to do on Staten Island and then a tour of Philadelphia, Washington and some other places.' She stroked a colt's head.

The place names meant nothing to me. I'd expected on docking we would be going directly to the American West. For all I knew the cities she mentioned could be frontier towns. A loud squawking above our heads distracted us. From out of the clouds a flock of seagulls wheeled down and attacked the waste thrown over the side by one of the ship's cooks. These were the first seabirds we'd seen since leaving the coast of England. 'Must be gettin' near to land.' Miss Arta took a deep breath and gave a look of relief that turned into a smile. 'Soon be home.'

Home. What did the word mean? I'd been in a home but not in a real home since mother died. Maybe I'd rediscover the meaning of this word with the help of my new family. Why weren't George and Sal with me? They deserved a real home as much as I did. ***

For the next twenty-four hours expectancy filled the air. In the case of my new people it was relief more than anything else. The only topic of conversation above and below decks was the nearness of our destination. How anyone could calculate this was beyond me but, at least, Black Elk's powers of prophecy were going to be found wanting once again. Laughing Waters and I were hanging onto the rail at the ship's bow; needless to say we weren't alone. We strained our eyes desperate to be the first to see land and the last of the endless ocean but the first sight of America wasn't mountains or green fields. It was fog.

We'd left England in mist only to find the shores of my new homeland engulfed in the same pea soup. No wonder so many sailors' children were orphans.

In the far distance a pale green figure appeared through a break in the mist. It was rising from out of the sea. 'What is it?' I whispered in my oldest sister's ear. She must know ... or so I thought. 'Do not know.' She shook her head. The figure was getting bigger. A look of fear came into her eyes. 'Maybe it is the Great Spirit ... come to punish us for leaving our land!' The figure was enormous now and it was holding up an arm. Was it trying to warn us off? 'Do not come any nearer!' it seemed to be ordering.

I wanted to ask one of the sailors near us what it was. Still I dare not risk discovery, not when I was so near to safety, but were we safe?

Continued... Next Page (4/4)

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